“Now tell me what a stubborn little girl like you is doin’ living at home,” he teased. “Not that there’s a thing wrong with it.”
“For most of the year I’m a dirt-poor student,” she said without hesitation. “I usually live at the university, but I’m home to work for the summer. For now that means suffering the indignities that entails.”
She’s a student?
Oh hell, how young was she?
“And your sister? Same thing?” He asked the question with no small amount of trepidation. How big was this hornets’ nest he’d disturbed?
“No, no. She’s a physical therapist. The apartment building she lived in was another casualty of the storm, and the new place she’s buying isn’t done yet. Lucky us, we got her back. We really should be a sitcom.”
He very nearly turned her invitation down. At the same time, his curiosity suddenly went wild. Olympic hopeful and college student? That made her more than a shallow dreamer and deeper than a stubborn personality.
“Okay,” he said, before he could stop the words. “I’d love to come.”
For the first time her dazzling smile terrified rather than thrilled him. She followed Dewey, her hips, hugged by the fitted breeches, swaying with unaffected ease—damn feminine and sexy, but strong-strided, purposeful, and as far from flirtatious as a girl could get.
Girl. A younger girl. A college coed. What on God’s little green Earth was he thinking?
Chapter Five
CALLING TO LET her mother know there’d be a guest for supper had been tantamount to assembling the Spanish Inquisition—readied for the occasion by Martha Stewart.
“My goodness! Who have we here? Welcome!” Her mother came forward with such effusive familiarity when Chase entered the kitchen, Jill expected her to kiss him outright. Instead, she took his hands and squeezed them as if receiving an old friend.
“Mother,” Jill said. “This is Chase Preston. Chase, my mother, Elaina Carpenter.”
Chase returned her greeting with equal warmth, surprising Jill with his lack of discomfiture.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miz Carpenter. I can’t thank you and Jill enough for the invitation.”
Elaina raised a pleased and charmed eyebrow at the accent, but got no chance to reply. Dee, never one to be upstaged when a man was involved, pushed forward and placed one elegant-fingered hand on Chase’s forearm—a seductive twist on her mother’s familiarity.
“Isn’t this a lovely coincidence? Seems we get to have our meeting of North and South after all.”
Jill hid a sigh. “You’ve met my sister Deirdre—”
“Good to see you again, Dee.” Chase seemed plenty at ease with her, too.
A trace of Dee’s signature perfume clung to her, despite the time she’d spent in the barn. All Jill smelled on herself was horse. With little lingering notes of cat dander from the clinic this morning.
“Jill, however did you manage to snag the man with the best accent in town?” she asked.
Jill pinched the bridge of her nose to keep her eyes from rolling. “Why, I set my snare out on County Road Eight and snapped him right up.”
Chase chuckled. “Easy as swervin’ to miss a pup in the road.”
“Sounds like you two have a good dinner story to tell.” Elaina gestured like a maître d’ to usher them toward the dining room. “Homemade spaghetti. We’re all ready for you.”
Her mother could make a gourmet meal out of water and napkins, and the homemade spaghetti sauce showcased that skill—to Chase’s vocal delight. Dee lived up to her reputation as well, monopolizing each new discussion topic and coaxing the story of Chase’s afternoon from him as if Jill had merely been a mule—delivering him to their dining room for Dee’s pleasure. Long ago, Jill had accepted the fact her sister didn’t like her. She’d never known why there’d been animosity between them ever since their father had left home over ten years earlier, but it was now the normal state of things. Today, however, something was dragging her back toward the dark, early days of jealousy.
Maybe her out-of-character resentment had to do with the throbbing in her shoulder, or maybe the idea that Dee had done better than she with Colin Pitts-Matherson, but if she was honest, it was the fact that her knight, now off his silver-and-red iron steed, sat entranced, seemingly unable to resist the siren call of Deirdre Carpenter.
“I didn’t know you could still ride a forty-plus-year-old motorcycle.” Dee rested her delicately pointed chin on her manicured hand. “Dewey thought there might be a problem?”
“Actually, he couldn’t find anything. We’re going with the bad gas theory. He fiddled with her a little and she ran all right on the way here.”
In fact, Chase and Dewey had talked motorcycles for nearly twenty minutes the way, Jill supposed, she and David talked horses. Annoyed with her infantile inner pout, she squelched it.
“You promised me the bike’s story you know.” Her stomach danced a little when he replied with a grin. “I think it’s time to find out about its Minnesota connection.”
“I’m originally from outside of Lexington. My daddy’s family’s been there five generations. Poppa—my grandfather—was only in his early fifties when my grandmother died. He left the family farm for a year and a half and found his way north, to a job with a construction crew. He bought a used Triumph and spent a little over a year getting his act together before finally deciding there was no place like home.
“When I recently found myself out of work, Poppa set me up with his old construction friend, handed me the Triumph keys, and pointed me here. About now, though, I’m thinkin’ the good Lord just needed me to experience this spaghetti.”
“Oh, of course, I’m sure that’s exactly what happened.” She accepted the compliment in good humor. “What does your family do in Kentucky? What led you away?” Elaina asked.
Something shadowy flickered in Chase’s eyes, but his smile held. “I believed it was principle when I was young and self-righteous.” He set out the words carefully, as if afraid he’d put them in the wrong order. “I was a little bit of a disappointment to my daddy, since I was the oldest but walked away from the family business. I come from a long line of tobacco farmers, and there are very few left in central Kentucky. Daddy’s a holdout, and wants to keep it that way. The life was very good to his family. But I couldn’t do it.”
“You didn’t like farming?” Dee asked.
“I liked the farm. I spent time with Poppa. Helped him more than I did Daddy. But I didn’t like the idea of growing tobacco. Still don’t.”
“You were enlightened for a kid,” Jill said quietly.
“My folks didn’t call it enlightened. Daddy called it disrespectful. And since the Prestons have been farmers all the way back to Scotland generations ago, he said if he hadn’t been there at my very beginnings, he’d think I was the milkman’s son.”
He caught Jill with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.
“You’re letting us ask an awful lot of personal questions,” she said.
“Figure I owe y’all a little background since you’ve taken me in not knowin’ if I’m an ant farmer or an ax murderer. And I really do appreciate a good meal, Miz Carpenter. Thank you.”
“It’s Elaina, please. And cooking for compliments is always worthwhile.”
She rested her elbows on her crisp blue tablecloth, clasped her hands beneath her chin, and frowned a little at Jill. She was a quirky parent, most interested in having her daughters look on her as a young, very with-it mom-pal. She was as organized and pristine of habit as an operating room, but, once in a while, she couldn’t quite keep the inner mother fully at bay.
“Are you all right, Jill? You’re moving like something hurts.”
She was? Jill shot a quelling look at Chase, who seemed primed for an I-told-you-so.
“It’s nothing.” It wasn’t nothing, if the steadily increasing stiffness in her body was any indication. The lack of movement was hurting her. She needed to loosen up again. “Dra
gon got spooked and jumped around a little. He nailed my shoulder and it’s a little stiff.”
“You girls and those horses.” Her mother had never been a horse person—that love had come from adventurous Julian, their long-gone father. “One of these days something’s going to happen. You need to finish vet school and stop this riding nonsense.”
A tangle of emotions vied for attention—anger, defiance, defensiveness. Jill almost missed the incredulity on Chase’s face.
“You do realize that if I become a vet I’ll be a horse vet.” She rotated her shoulder and grimaced in spite of herself. “I wasn’t riding when this happened.”
“I know.” Her mother sighed. “I worry less when you’re up at the U.”
That was a standard lament. Raising an Olympic rider held little appeal to Elaina Carpenter. It wasn’t lucrative, which would have been the only reason to consider sports as a job—and it required participation on a mother’s part. You didn’t need to continually cheer for a veterinarian.
“Sorry, but I have to backtrack here.” Chase pinned her with deep blue interest. “You’re in vet school? That’s pretty damn, sorry, dang impressive.”
“She just finished her second year,” Elaina said. “I think it’s been her calling since she was a kid. Our little animal lover.”
“That’s me.” She rubbed her temples with a grimace.
She did love animals. She liked vet school. She loved to ride. Her life was a smorgasbord of fabulous choices.
“I’m impressed,” Chase said, and the truth of his admiration shone in his eyes.
“Speaking of impressed.” Dee reentered the conversation. “How did you like Colin today? I admit, I was skeptical when I heard he was coming, but I was super-impressed. He told me I had potential. How’s that for surprising?” She gave a self-deprecating chuckle.
Jill was done. She pushed her chair back. “I had a crap ride. He told me to work on my hands and my posture.”
To her credit, Dee looked honestly surprised. “Wow, I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t, but she made the sentiment sound good.
“Your sister was too stubborn to tell him about her injury.” Chase pushed his chair back, too, and tossed Jill a hairy eyeball warning-teasing kind of look. “She’s thinking of admitting it next time she sees him.” Her jaw dropped at his audacity, and then he turned his blasted Elvis look on her again. Her stomach did an unexpected flop. “Now, how ’bout I help with the clean-up before I leave you lovely ladies? I have to get on to Northfield and find a motel.”
“Chase?” Their mother’s attention returned to him, her concern over Jill’s day exhausted. “I have an idea for you. We have a small guesthouse out back that’s fully set up for visitors and completely private. We’d be happy to have you use it. Sounds like you’ve had a long trip from Memphis. We’d get a chance to hear more about what you do.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Miz Carpenter.” For a moment, Chase looked like a dog cornered by bears. “That’s awful nice, but I can’t impose.”
“Don’t be silly!” Dee’s eyes lit with ulterior motives. “It’s a wonderful idea. Trust me, the guesthouse is much, much nicer than any hotel.”
“I have no doubt.”
To Jill’s surprise, Chase found her eyes and asked her what she thought as clearly as if he’d spoken. No way was she going to let on about the flutters in her belly, but her growing bad mood slid magically away.
“It’s entirely up to you. I’ll tell you the same thing I did earlier, I’d feel much better knowing you didn’t have to ride that overgrown weed whacker into the sunset tonight.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at his momentary speechlessness.
“Well then.” He recovered. “I guess that settles it.”
“Excellent!” Elaina stood. “How about we get you settled, Chase? Then I’ve got time to get us some dessert.”
“I’m happy to clean up.” Jill said, and stood too quickly. Pain radiated over her shoulder. She sucked in her breath.
Chase pointed at her. “You should be icing that shoulder.”
“There’s a bag of peas in the freezer, I’m sure.” She fixed Chase with a warning glare. It was one thing to tease, another entirely to hover. He conceded with a reluctant shake of his head. His black bangs flopped into his eyes.
Dee smiled at Jill, but it was strictly for Chase’s benefit. “Thanks, sis. Since you’re doing fine, Mother and I can show Chase around.”
“My mama would threaten me with a hickory switch if I left before chores. Growing up with all boys, even the South was liberated in her world.”
“Hickory switch?” Dee formed an obvious sexy O with her perfect lips. “I need to hear more about that. Sounds a little kinky.”
Chase hesitated.
“Go.” Jill gestured for him to follow.
Sending him off with Dee was preferable to having him fuss like a fishwife over her injury. The last thing Jill heard was his bourbon-rich Kentucky drawl. “I could be mistaken, but you seem a touch dangerous, Miss Dee Carpenter.”
“Oh good! You noticed!”
FIFTEEN MINUTES, A tour of his lodgings, and countless come-ons later, Chase watched Jill surreptitiously from the kitchen door. He’d finally ditched Dee, a witty, smart girl with more moves than a foxtrot and seemingly less shame than a streetwalker. How Jill could be such a complete opposite he didn’t know, but she tugged at him with an old-soul compatibility and layers that were softer and more complex than his mama’s heirloom quilts.
“Hey there, Olympic vet girl,” he called at last. “I hear I can find water around here.”
She turned a little stiffly from the sink, and her eyes, brightening as she took him in, warmed him with a welcome. She still wore her close-fitting breeches and a pair of bright blue-and-purple socks that rose halfway up her slender calves. She opened a cupboard filled with glasses. “Of course. Help yourself.”
He leaned against a counter and crossed his arms. “Confession time. I don’t need any water. I came to make sure you’re all right.”
“Chase, I’m fi-ine.” Her voice lilted in a mild warning.
“Let me give you a hand with these dishes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re company.”
“I like the company right here fine.” That sent her brows momentarily toward her hairline. He picked up a towel and chuckled. “You’re a lot different from your sister. I don’t think she was much interested in the motorcycle.”
“I will guarantee she wasn’t interested in it. She’s into hot cars and hot guys. Hence the barrage she sent your way.”
“I think that hot guy part was a compliment.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re okay, for a rescuer of women who swerve into ditches.”
He liked how she teased him and how easy it was to tease her, as if they’d been friends a long time.
“So how do two sisters get to be so different?”
“Dee would say it’s because she’s our mother and I’m our father.”
“What if I asked you? Are you like your father? Sorry.” He backed off at her startled expression. “That was personal.”
“No, it’s okay. Nobody talks about Dad very often, that’s all. Julian Carpenter is almost as unpopular in this house as Duncan Connery. But, to answer your question, I suppose I was a daddy’s girl until he left. None of us has seen him in person for three years. He lives in Chile of all places, and climbs in the Andes. I honestly don’t know if I’m much like him anymore.”
“Sounds like you hope you aren’t.”
She leaned against the counter beside him, her features tight but unreadable. “Being like him would not be a compliment. Dad left us. No real warning, no apologies. He was a normal high school science teacher and then, one day, poof, he quit. He’d built a dream life for his girls, all the niceties we could want, but turns out it was all a lie, a way to appease his conscience so he could move on once he told us he’d never been truly happy.”
“H
ow old were you?”
“Fourteen. Dee was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry, Jill, that’s really rotten. But with the things you’ve got planned—I don’t see that part of him in you.”
“My mother does a little bit. She thinks I have out-of-reach dreams just like he did. The Olympics? The biggest pipe dream of all.”
“It’s an enormously focused dream, isn’t it? Not like a flighty person could achieve it. And you’re a vet student. That’s a pretty solid goal, too.”
“Ah, but what if I were to quit vet school?” Her brows shot up in a challenge. “That would prove Mother’s point, and Dee would have proof that I’m no more than a tomboy who can pound nails but not polish them.”
“Hey. I don’t see any tomboys in here.”
He drew her eyes to his and held them. Immediately he realized his mistake. The remark had taken on a far more intimate tone than he’d intended, and two rosy spots bloomed on her cheeks.
“Thank you.”
She reached for a pan and grimaced.
“Did you put ice on that like you promised?”
The rose color on her cheeks deepened, answering the question.
He didn’t say anything, just located the freezer and boldly pulled open the door. It took only seconds to locate a bag of frozen vegetables.
“You’re the most hovering worrywart of a man I’ve ever met,” she grumbled.
“Good. Clearly you need someone to hover.”
“Of all the gall—I don’t either.”
He laughed at the peevishness in her voice and wrapped the frozen bag in his towel. He stood behind her and, without permission, pulled the neckline of her polo shirt out with his left hand and slid the makeshift cold pack down her front with his right. Gently he pressed it to her shoulder.
“Tell me where exactly where it should go,” he said.
Wordlessly, she encircled his wrist and guided the placement of the veggies. For several seconds they stood, her scent in his nostrils, her chest rising and falling beneath his hand, her fingers light on his skin. When his body threatened to give away his physical reaction, he withdrew, leaving the frozen peas behind.
Rescued by a Stranger Page 6
